Page 33 of Second Story

I’m a world away from London. A whole galaxy from the city’s bass-line thrum and perpetual lights and sirens.

Hugo orders, “Hold that thought.” He walks uphill with me until we reach the Rectory, where he lets us both into a silent building and then cocks an ear. All I hear is peace and quiet until he shows me to an upstairs study and opens a window. Birdsong floods in. “Now, take another look.”

I do, and fuck me, what a vista.

The school is below us, nestled at the bottom of this sheltered valley. Tors stand sentry in the distance, granite grey and glinting, and further away, the sea is another sparkling border.

I inhale, breathing in pine and salt and late spring warmth, while Hugo adds to this crystal clear Cornish vision.

“All you could see were trees, Joseph. Can you see more from this perspective?”

I nod.

“You’re out of the woods now. You, Isaac, and Lenny.” He makes us sound like a unit. A trio. A family of three. “How aboutyou give yourself some grace. Some space. A little distance. You could also give yourself the gift of not rushing away.”

“I promised my brother that I would.” I’ve never been more tempted to put off Josh. To upset our often still-tense reunion. “Besides, Isaac doesn’t want to rock the boat.”

“For Lenny? Well, should that change?—”

A door slams downstairs followed by the sound of babies bawling. A cut-glass accent bawls too.

“Hugo? If you aren’t already on your knees praying, get down on them right now and put in an urgent request for me, will you, gorgeous?”

Steps thump up the stairs.

“I need a massive gin and tonic the minute these maggots are in bed. And if God could send me an extra pair of hands for the witching hour, I might actually become a believer. Bonus points if they’re a twin-wrangling expert by day and interested in worshiping my body by night.”

I guess it’s Hugo’s husband who pushes the door open. He’s hampered by a crying toddler who clings to his leg and an armful of wailing babies, and he looks about to join in with all three of them until he sees me.

Just like that, he’s sunny.

“Oh, hello, handsome stranger.” He looks upward. Not atthis study ceiling. He sends these thanks for a prayer answered straight to heaven. “Well done, Lord. Youdolisten.” He laughs and staggers closer to his husband to plant a kiss square on his scarred cheek.

“Prayer isn’t the same as ordering groceries, Charles,” Hugo grumbles. “Meet Joseph.”

“Hi.” I shake his husband’s free hand. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any gin with me.” And the only body I’m interested in worshipping is off-limits.Wasoff-limits. I’m still uncertainabout that. At least there’s one thing I can swear on a Bible. “But I do happen to be a twin-wrangling expert.”

“Really?” This smile is almost as bright as the glitter in his beard.

“If almost thirty years’ experience of being one counts, then yeah. The trick is to never let your twins know you’re outnumbered. And to accept help when it’s offered.” I hold out my hands. “This is me volunteering.”

Having a crying baby thrust into my arms might not be everyone’s idea of a warm welcome.

I have to confess, I like it.

Charles makesa confession of his own when it’s time for me to hit the road after a noisy supper. “The only way to get this gruesome twosome to sleep after a visit with their mum is to pop them in their pram and walk them until they conk out. Mind if we walk down to the car park with you? These home visits always leave them unsettled. Especially when Mum can only manage one of them at a time.”

I jiggle acrying baby. “You’re fostering them?”

“Yes, for months now.”

“And this is the first time they’ve been apart from each other?”

He nods. “Their Mum has been so poorly. Splitting them up so as not to overwhelm her during her recovery seemed like a good plan, but now I’m not so certain. How about you and your twin? Did you like a chance to be alone instead of constantly together?”

For a split second, I’m back in that pain-filled space when my wounds were fresh and Josh couldn’t stand to be around me. That shame in his expression? Never want to see it again.

Did I like being alone?

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